The Stolen Bride

The Stolen Bride by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online Page B

Book: The Stolen Bride by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online
Authors: Brenda Joyce
Tags: Romance
seemed perplexed. “I beg your pardon—Eleanor has four brothers, does she not?”
    Eleanor felt her smile fade. She had three brothers and two stepbrothers. Everyone knew that. Didn’t Peter know it, too? But Sean was gone, missing—and he was the one who had gray eyes.
    “Did I say something wrong?” Sinclair asked in bewilderment. “Cliff has not arrived yet, but he would make four.”
    Eleanor stared at the linen table cloth, suddenly sad in spite of the wine. Where was Sean? Why wasn’t he here? Didn’t he want to come home?
    The wine had made her a lackwit. Sean wasn’t there, so how could she get married? There couldn’t be a wedding without Sean, because he was the oneshe was supposed to be marrying. Suddenly Eleanor felt a surge of panic.
    “I am sorry, Eleanor,” Tyrell murmured.
    She looked at him, the effects of the wine gone just like that, like being thrown in a tub of frigid water. She was marrying Peter , not Sean. She loved Peter —or she almost did—and she had to have a third glass of wine before the evening was ruined .
    Devlin O’Neill spoke. Once an infamous captain in the British Royal navy, he remained bronzed, his hair sun-streaked. “I am sure you have heard the rumors, Peter. I have a younger brother but he disappeared four years ago. No one has seen or heard from Sean since.”
    Sinclair started. “No, I hadn’t heard. Good God, I am terribly sorry, Sir Captain!”
    There was no wine left in her glass. Eleanor stared at the crystal, almost wishing that she had never met Sean, because he was ruining what was supposed to be the happiest day in her life. And she was happy, wasn’t she? She liked the way Peter looked at her and the way he smiled. She had been happy a moment ago! She was going to miss Sean forever—she missed him now—but she was marrying a wonderful man, the most perfect man, even if he was English.
    And she was overcome with confusion. She likedPeter very much; sometimes she thought she loved him. Missing Sean—who had gray eyes—had nothing— nothing —to do with her wedding.
    “Peter?” She smiled at him. “I should like another glass of wine. Very much,” she added, but he was not given the chance to respond.
    “To Sinclair,” Rex de Warenne said. He had lost his right leg in the war and now he reached for his crutch and pushed to his left foot. “The perfect husband for our sister, as he will dedicate his life to her. Eleanor, no bride could be as fortunate.”
    Eleanor just stared at Rex, wondering if he was mocking her. He had changed so much since he had come home from the war. “I am the most fortunate woman in Ireland,” she said with the heat of utter conviction.
    Everyone looked at her.
    Eleanor wondered, aghast, if she had just slurred .
    Rex’s dark brows lifted in skepticism. “Really?”
    Eleanor met his dark, penetrating gaze and thought he might know exactly how she was feeling. But then, he was very fond of wine—and brandy—especially since he had lost his leg. Maybe he would get her another glass of wine— discreetly , just in case she had committed the terrible faux pas of becoming foxed in polite company.
    Ladies don’t get foxed, Elle .
    Eleanor jumped in her seat, whirling to find Sean. But no one was standing behind her.
    “Eleanor? What is it?” Peter asked quickly, concerned.
    “Is he here?” she managed, clinging to the back of her chair.
    The earl stood decisively. “I think we should adjourn to our brandies. Eleanor?”
    Eleanor realized she had been about to sit backward in her chair. Sean wasn’t there. She was so disappointed it was hard to face the right way as the men all stood. She felt far too many curious regards coming her way.
    Peter remained seated beside her. As the men left, Rex limped over to them, using his single crutch. He was very dark and muscular, and almost the spitting image of Tyrell, except that his eyes were brown, not blue. “I am sorry, Eleanor. I should not burden you with my foul

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